Crack fic Collection
by Vuirneen
Summary: A collection of crack!fics including: FairyTale AU; Mermaids; Angels and Demons; Mental Health Setting; High School AU; Modern Day Assassin AU; College AU
1. FairyTale AU

**Fairytale AU**

This was written for an LJ challenge. All of the fics are from crack prompts. There are spelling and editing issues with most of them.

* * *

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, lived a young girl named Shuurei. Shuurei was never blessed by a fairy godmother, but she was loved, very much, by her lonely, widowed father. The two of them lived in a crumbling mansion with their faithful servant, Seiran.

Although they lived in a mansion with extensive grounds, the family was very poor, and so, even though she was noble, Shuurei had to work her fingers to the bone to provide for her family and repair her crumbling home. Shuurei hardly ever complained about being poor and never charged for the lessons she gave to the local children, when she could have been earning gold. There was never enough money to spare, however, and Shuurei's father was too proud to sell the mansion and move somewhere smaller, so Shuurei's home continued to decay.

One day, a thief was passing by the mansion when part of the outer wall collapsed. His bags were full with swag, but being a greedy man, he could not pass up a golden opportunity like this. 'Praise Ali Baba,' he exclaimed, before hopping inside and looking for things to steal. The thief spent all day searching, but found nothing worth taking, not even a measly alabaster pot! He had decided to leave, when he heard voices.

'Aha,' he said, 'I knew that there was something valuable in this misbegotten dump.'

And so, he followed the voices, which were coming from an open window. The thief creeped closer and peeked through and found the precious treasure of the household - the family of two (plus servant), settling down to a meal of barley.

The thief was touched by the love they shared, and decided then and there to help them.

He rifled through his bags and pockets and put together a modest sum - not enough to maintain their ludicrous home, but enough to eat rice through the winter, which was several seasons away. He then pulled from his sack of loot an opulent outfit, stripped from a fat merchant while he snored in a distant tavern. He dressed, then etched his wrinkles with charcoal, to deepen them and stained his hair with white powder. When he had finished, he looked like a venerable old sage.

'Ho, ho, ho,' said the thief. 'This will be fun.' He giggled a few more times, before composing himself and knocking on the door, which opened. He strode inside.

'I am Shouka and this is my daughter, Shuurei,' said Shuurei's father. He didn't bother to introduce their servant. Seiran sighed. 'We do not have much, but you are welcome to share with us.'

'I have, err, already eaten,' said the thief, who hated barley, 'but I wouldn't say no to a cup of tea.'

Shuurei's father went to the kitchen, to prepare the tea. Their servant, Seiran, blanched and made to follow him, but stopped, unwilling to leave Shuurei alone with the stranger.

When Shuurei's father returned, he poured tea for everyone, including the servant, Seiran. However, nobody drank from it. The thief, noticing this, also abstained.

'My name is Sou Taishi,' he said, having decided that this name had the requisite gravitas. 'I have come because the Emperor needs you... Shuurei.'

Shuurei gasped. Her father gasped. Their servant gasped.

'I will pay you five hundred gold coins.'

Shuurei gasped. Her father gasped. Their servant gasped.

'All you have to do is enter the Imperial harem and teach the Emperor how to be a man.'

Shuurei gasped. Her father gasped. Their servant gasped.

Knowing that a girl of her nobility, strength and determination would say no to such a shocking offer, the thief paused too long before starting on his real offer.

'I'll do it!' said Shuurei.

The thief gasped. Shuurei's father gasped. His servant gasped.

The thief took a long drink from the cup in front of him, to recover from the shock, but soon regretted it. As Shuurei led him, gasping and spluttering, to the front door, she whispered. 'Five hundred gold. You can't back out now.'

The following morning dawned warm, but breezy. If Shuurei had any doubts about the path she had chosen, she didn't betray any of them as she airily waved goodbye to her father and their servant. 'Five hundred gold,' she cackled. 'I can do anything with that money. I could buy a new house with modern insulation and indoor plumbing. Father can freeze to death in his holey, old pile.'

The Imperial Palace was quite a distance from Shuurei's home and it wasn't surprising that she met a number of people on the way there, including a young man who was on a quest that had already claimed the lives of his two older and more feckless brothers.

'Would you take a big cake with your father's curse on it, or a small cake with his blessing?' he asked Shuurei, as she passed by.

'What an odd question,' she said, 'since "Your father's curse" is well known slang for a poison that weakens both body and spirit.'

His eyes widened and he muttered something under his breath, although Shuurei's remarkable hearing couldn't decipher if it was a swearword or not. 'Here,' he said more legibly, shoving a basket at Shuurei's chest. She grabbed it reflexively. Inside was a large cake. 'You need to deliver this to your Grandmother.'

'My Grandmother's dead,' she replied.

The young man blushed. 'I mean, my grandmother,' he said.

'Why would I need to deliver anything to your grandmother?'

'Just wear this,' he said, ignoring her response. He untied a red cloak from his shoulders and fastened it about hers.

'Why do I need to wear this?' she asked, gobsmacked by his impudence.

'So that Shuuei will recognise you!' he shouted.

'Who's Shuuei?' Shuurei asked.

'I'll give you a gold,' said the young man, helplessly. 'Will you stop asking questions then?'

She nodded and money changed hands.

'Where does your grandmother live?' she asked, despite the fact that she had promised not to ask any more questions.

'Who?' he replied, looking lost and confused.

Shuurei shook the basket at him and he nodded, before pointing at a house at the very end of the street.

'That's my house,' said Shuurei.

The next building he directed her to was the local temple, followed by the bakery, the army barracks, the Imperial Palace and her house again. Luckily, Shuurei found a signpost showing the way to "Grandmother's House" and managed to get rid of him before the sun rose to its greatest height.

'I hope that it doesn't take too long to find Grandmother's House,' Shuurei said. 'I gave most of my breakfast to father and Seiran, our servant, because I expected to enjoy a bang up meal at the palace.'

The signposts led Shuurei all over the city, criss-crossing at several points, almost as though someone was moving signposts as she travelled. Of course, that was impossible, but it didn't stop her from suddenly turning, a time or two, hoping to catch someone in the process of carrying out such shenanigans.

Grandmother's House was a dainty cottage in the middle of some parkland. The front gate dripped paint onto the ground and leaned at an awkward angle. It took all of Shuurei's strength to swing it open and even then, the gap until it stuck fast in the earth wasn't enough to pass through. Shuurei thought of the gold, hitched up her skirts and tumbled over the top, basket and all. She paused to brush the worst of the dirt from her clothing before walking up the path. The sound of hammering and banging could be heard echoing from the back.

The door was rather over eager. It was coated in homely touches, like "Home Sweet Home" signs carved from wood, dried flower bunches and unstable horseshoes. Eventually, Shuurei managed to hook some dangling flowers in exposed ironwork and expose an area of actual door. She knocked twice, then plucked several splinters from her hands.

A high-pitched voice wavered through the oversized keyhole. 'It's open.'

Shuurei pushed the door aside. This one wasn't built much better than the front gate. She managed to squeeze through, but had to open a window to pass the basket inside.

The cottage appeared to have only one room. It contained a rough stove; a side table on which was a bowl heaped with fruit; a battered chest; a spindle and an enormous bed. The bed contained grandma. She wore a big, frilly cap which almost completely covered her forehead. She held the blankets up to her nose and shook slightly, as though frightened of the young girl whom she'd invited into her home.

'I'm Shuurei,' called Shuurei. 'Your grandson asked me to deliver this basket to you.' She held up the basket. The giant, frilly cap nodded behind the sheets.

'Oh yes,' said Grandmother. 'Thank you very much.'

'It was no problem, ma'am,' said Shuurei, with a smile.

'Grandma!' shouted the old woman.

'Excuse me?' asked Shuurei, politely.

'Call me Grandma,' said Grandma.

'But you're not my grandmother and I don't know you that well...' began Shuurei.

The blankets shook more violently and Shuurei continued.

'...but I don't see why that should cause a problem, Grandma.'

'Come sit beside me and tell me about yourself, my dear.'

Shuurei did have to be at the palace, but a gold was a lot of money and Shuurei never short-changed anyone, so she looked about for a chair to pull up beside the old woman. There were none. There wasn't even a stool. Moving with remarkable agility for a woman of her years, Grandma shifted over in the bed and patted the empty spot beside her. Shuurei settled herself at the edge of the bed, a little unsure by this stage.

'Grandma, why aren't you wearing your glasses?' Shuurei asked, pointing at a pair of pince-nez that were sticking out of a "Good Housekeeping Guide".

'Ah yes,' replied Grandmother. Her hand darted down and retrieved the glasses. She placed them on her face without exposing any flesh below the nose. The old woman squinted once or twice through the glass, then exclaimed: 'All the better to see you with.'

'Grandma,' said Shuurei, lightly brushing the old woman's hand. 'What soft skin you have.'

'All the better to touch you with,' cooed Grandma, before patting Shuurei quickly on the head.

The blankets fell, just enough.

'Grandma!' exclaimed Shuurei. 'What masculine features you have!'

'All the better to marry you with!' shouted Grandma, as she lunged for Shuurei.

Just then, Shuurei's loyal and faithful servant, Seiran, burst in through the window. He tackled Grandma, who fought back with the strength of a full grown man on a balanced diet.

'Run to the Palace, Shuurei!' the servant cried. 'I will deal with this one.'

'Are you sure?' cried Shuurei, as Grandma twisted out of Seiran's reach. Her long, frilly, night dress got tangled up in Seiran's utilitarian cufflinks and they both fell to the ground.

'Yes!' gasped Seiran, as Grandma elbowed him in the stomach. 'We need the money.'

Shuurei didn't need any further reassurance. Seiran looked as though he was in a tight spot, but he entered every wrestling competition held in Sainukoku, and though he never won, he had a shocking tolerance for pain.

She fled the cottage and ran all the way to the palace, not stopping for any of the adventure hooks that presented themselves along the way.

The Imperial Harem was quite a ways into the compound, isolated and easy protected in case of attack. Outside the rather elaborate door was a disgruntled man, sitting behind a lavish desk.

'Name?' he snapped.

'Shuurei,' said Shuurei.

'Are you here,' he asked wearily, 'to make a man of the Emperor?' Shuurei nodded and he sighed. 'You're the tenth one today.'

He made some notes in the giant ledger on his desk and asked Shuurei to sign a number of times, including a rather specific copy of the Official Secrets Act. She didn't understand all the references to the performance of conjugal duties, but trusted the officious man behind the desk and signed anyway.

'Are there a lot of women come to the Imperial Harem?' Shuurei asked.

The disgruntled man grunted. 'Yes, all recently. We've had a plague of Emperor's wives. They're claiming that they've been offered ridiculous sums of money if they make a man of the Emperor. I wish I knew who started the rumour.'

'It was Sou Taishi,' Shuurei informed him, 'and he will pay five hundred gold pieces.'

The man snorted. 'Makes sense that it would be him. Oh well, good luck.'

Shuurei waved to the official and entered the Harem. Silk tapestries lined the walls, exotic scents wafted through the air and the place was stuffed full of cushions. It was also stuffed full with women. Ladies lounged on divans, painting their toenails and giggling with their friends. Others practised haughty airs and the art of conversation. Yet others swapped saucy stories and tips and promised to share the money if they were the lucky ones. There was major talk of plans and strategies, tactics and techniques. Shuurei, who was quite innocent in many ways, figured that the best way to start would be with baking.

Shuurei had a sideline when times were particularly tough. She was famous for her manjuu buns, which were quite cheap to make and not particularly filling, so people often bought several of them at a time. The kitchens reluctantly gave her access to their facilities. She filled a basket three layers deep with the buns and went out looking for the Emperor.

The greatest mystery in the Imperial Harem concerned the Emperor. Despite several very attractive women having been in the Palace for the past week, no one had seen hide nor hair of him and there were many mad rumours flying about the Harem: that he was gay; that he didn't exist; that he was actually a woman and a bisexual english major. Shuurei didn't believe any of them. Most of the boys she knew thought girls were icky and she assumed the Emperor felt the same way.

She prowled the gardens looking for the unclimbliest of trees, the scratchiest of bushes and the muddiest of dirtholes. In the mid afternoon, she paused her search for a light lunch. There was a pleasant spot beside a small pond and she settled on the edge of it, to open her basket. The buns had turned out quite sticky and Shuurei used a bit too much force to free the first bun. It unstuck itself with a tearing squelch, then flew from her finger to land in the pond with a plop.

'Oh no!' exclaimed Shuurei, as it slowly sank beneath the water's surface. 'Oh well.' She was more careful with the next one and was soon tucking into a delicious treat.

She didn't notice the splash and the small creature had to cough to get her attention.

'Can I have my kiss now, please?'

Shuurei looked down at a wet and unpalatable frog. 'What?'

The frog coughed again, covering his mouth with a slimy, webbed foot. 'Tradition dictates that when one helps another, one is rewarded.'

He looked up, hopefully, but Shuurei stared blankly back at him. He gestured to a sad-looking, white mass of goo.

'I recovered your manjuu bun for you,' the frog said with a smile.

Shuurei shook her head. 'Look, I'm hardly going to eat it now,' she pointed out.

The silence was broken only by the sound of the girl chewing on her lunch.

'I'm the Emperor, you know.' The frog tried a different tack, but Shuurei didn't rise to the bait, merely eating her lunch more animatedly. 'I am.'

The girl continued to ignore him and the frog sighed. He poked the soggy mass, but it dissolved at his touch, leaving his webbed fingers sticky. He took a number of painful hops back to the pond's bank, but stopped before slipping in. A delightful odour wafted gently under his froggy nose. He turned to the peace offering of a fresh and tasty manjuu bun.

'Here,' said Shuurei. 'You might as well have a good one.'

The frog hopped more lively to a spot beside the girl and tucked into the delicious treat.

'Thanks!'

'There are too many to eat myself,' Shuurei muttered, 'and I might as well share one with you. You look hungry and I can't find the Emperor anywhere.'

'We are quite hungry,' agreed the frog, his froggy face covered in bean paste. 'But we do know where the Emperor is.'

'You do?'

'Yes,' replied the frog. 'He was cursed by Kou Reishin. Something about marrying his adorable niece.'

'Really?' asked Shuurei.

The frog nodded. 'If he really loved his niece that much though,' he continued, 'we wonder why he doesn't do better by her father. Reishin ousted him as head of the clan and stuck him in a crumbling mansion. They only have one servant and by all accounts the place is falling to pieces.'

'Poor thing,' sighed Shuurei. 'It must be awful to be in a position like that.' The frog agreed. 'So where's the Emperor?'

'We told you,' said the frog as it munched away. 'We are the Emperor.'

'Yeah, right,' laughed Shuurei. 'And just how do we turn you back into a man?'

'It's simple,' said the frog. 'Say our name.'

'What's your name?' asked Shuurei, intrigued, despite herself.

'Oh we can't tell you that. You have to know.'

'Okay, let me see, I should know this,' began Shuurei. 'Um... the most honourable, blah, blah, blah, his Imperial Highness... Ryuuki! Your name's Ryuuki!'

The frog looked surprised. Then there was an amazing special effect, where the space around the frog warped and there was simultaneously a very small frog and a very big frog, then a very small man and a very normal-sized man and finally, a normal-sized, slightly wet and extremely naked man.

'Hurray!' shouted Ryuuki, jumping up.

'Hurray!' shouted Sou Taishi, falling from a nearby tree.

'Hurray!' shouted Shuurei.

'Shuurei! shouted Ryuuki, turning to her with arms out-stretched.

'Your Highness!' shouted Sou Taishi, as he untangled himself and rose slowly to his feet.

'Money!' shouted Shuurei, running to Sou Taishi with arms out-stretched.

Sou Taishi counted out five hundred gold coins for Shuurei - she made him do it twice, as he was quite inebriated, but that evening was spent in a brand new bed, in a brand new, two-storey house with modern insulation and indoor plumbing.


	2. Mermaids

**Mermaids**

This was also written for the challenge. It's one of the shortest stories.

* * *

oOo

'All I'm saying, is that if it looks like a fish, swims like a fish and has scales, then it's a fish.' There was a deep, mocking laugh. 'If it doesn't, then it's not a merman. I don't care what any Kou family heavy says.'

The mocking laugh returned but was cut off. 'If they insist on calling _it_ a merman, then maybe we should force them to put money on the next race.'

An unsavoury current wafted around the corner and dispersed. The young man turned his face aside and slumped against the coral wall. His gaze was drawn to his feet. Great, grey flippers helped him to swim faster, but nothing his father suggested could make his legs more flexible. He would never be as good as the real merfolk and his father was a fool to pretend otherwise.

Above him, a school of merkids swam about, playing one of their incomprehensible games. An older mermaid was watching them, calling encouragement and chiding them when they got too rough. She drifted downwards until she spotted the man beneath. He waved and she swam down to join him.

'Kouyuu,' she said, wrinkling her nose. 'Oh sorry, I seem to have swum through something.'

She eyed him suspiciously.

He gestured at the wall. 'It backs onto the Drunken Clam, Shuurei,' he said. It's not surprising.'

'Ah.' She blushed and then fussed at her clothes. 'How are your legs?' she asked brightly.

Kouyuu grunted. 'I mean, they're fine.'

'Still there then?' she frowned. 'Shouldn't they have fallen off by now?'

'What?' Kouyuu shouted at her, which wasn't fair, as Shuurei was never mean.

She drew back. Her hair drifted in front of her face and obscured her vision. She fought with it, before regaining control and looking nice again.

'You should tie it back,' Kouyuu mumbled. 'It'd be easier to handle then, and you wouldn't risk getting tangled in nets.'

Shuurei laughed. 'I tried something new this morning, but it got away from me,' she admitted. 'I didn't have enough time to fix it afterwards.'

Kouyuu sighed. 'I'm sorry for shouting earlier,' he said. 'It's just... People... It's hard having legs.'

'I used to have legs, you know.'

Her crimson tail twitched and its scales slid along the sea bed. Kouyuu had never actually checked the join - of course not, only her husband would see that and Kouyuu would never ask... - still, he was absolutely certain. It looked real. It was flexible and twisted in ways that Kouyuu could never manange, even if he bound his legs together, like he did when he was a child.

'I can tell that you don't believe me, but it's true.' Shuurei waited for Kouyuu to nod before continuing. 'When I was a child I had two legs, instead of a tail.'

'Really?' asked Kouyuu.

She smiled. 'I even got leg sickness.'

He shook his head.

'It's when you find it hard to breathe. It's rare - only happens if you have legs, so I did worry about you, Kouyuu. You're fine, though.' She drew closer. Her hair streamed out behind her and her tail swung around to touch the tip of his flippers.

'But how? You have a tail,' said Kouyuu, feeling extremely obvious.

'One day, they just shrivelled up and fell off.' A passing minnow swam into her hair which had flared out behind her again. It tried to swim out again a few moments later, but had difficulty with a particularly dangerous tangle. 'I don't remember a lot about it, since I was quite young, but I remember having trouble breathing and difficulty playing with the other children.'

'And one day they just shrivelled up?' He looked dubious.

'After a week, they fell off. My tail grew from the spot where my legs used to be.'

Kouyuu looked down and tugged at his robe. He flexed his right leg, but unfortunately, it looked just as healthy as usual.

Shuurei looked thoughtful. 'It was around that time that my mother got sick.'

Kouyuu made encouraging noises and wondered whether or not to pat her on the back.

'One day she was fine and then suddenly she was bed bound. I found it hard to get used to my new tail and she couldn't help me. It wasn't fair! The instant I get better, she starts to fail. She didn't swim again.' The fish finally figured it out and made good its escape.

Kouyuu's mouth opened in a wide O.

'Do you,' he stopped, unsure whether to continue or not. He decided. 'Do you think think her illness was connected to you getting better?'

Her face paled, but she didn't hesitate. 'I wondered about that a lot. Mother hid her tail under a blanket. I remember sitting on her lap once and it felt wierd. Not a tail, but not boney, like legs, either.' She shared a tender look with her friend. 'Her breathing was fine, though. She never had any trouble with that. Not at all. I don't know what happened. Father doesn't talk about it and I can't bring it up.'

Kouyuu suddenly laughed and Shuurei spluttered in response.

'I'm sorry, Shuurei,' he said, still trying to get his voice under control, 'but I had the most unbelieveable mental picture. Of course your mother's illness isn't related to your sudden health.'

'Are you sure?' she asked, warily.

He nodded. 'I thought, maybe you got a tail transplant from your mother, then I imagined a baby Shuurei peeping out of the top of an adult tail. The entire thing is just ludicrous!'

It took a moment, but then Shuurei laughed too. 'You're right,' she said, laughing a bit too hard. 'Of course, you're right.'

Out of their sight, a richly dressed merman fluttered his fan. 'Of course,' he said. 'A tail transplant. Why didn't I think of that?'


	3. Angels And Demons

**Angels and Demons**

This was written as part of the original LJ Challenge. The time limit was still in effect.

* * *

It wasn't polite to ask, of course, but _some _people were obvious. Kouyuu glared at the man chatting to one of the court ladies. _'I hope he's assigned to the do-goodiest gods-botherer in the entireity of Saiunkoku,'_ he muttered to himself. _'Jerk.'_

Kouyuu, of course, was hard at work, of course, doing what he was supposed to be doing. Of course.

The Emperor, who only got his job by virtue of surviving the last civil war, which he only did by being too busy chasing boys to worry any of the sets of factions, had managed to escape his duty again and everyone, including some of the older cadets, had been ordered to find him and bring him to the ceremony.

Kouyuu needed to leave early to be anywhere on time, thanks to the interference of demons who altered the landscape around him, or did something to distract him, or, or,... it was their fault! Finding someone who was trying to be lost by using someone who got lost when he was desperate to be found, was Sou Taishi's idea. Kouyuu wondered if he wanted Kouyuu to miss the ceremony so that he could make fun of him for another year. Well! Hah! Kouyuu had already filled out the forms to graduate in absentia and delivered them to the appropriate location furing the first month of his study at the Imperial Palace.

Sou Taishi never wore one of the tokens that marked angels as angels and demons as demons. He was also so old that the only people who could possibly know if he was an angel or demon were General Shou and Sa Taishi. Neither of them would say anything, because, as the three advisers of the Emperor, they were supposed to be above that sort of thing. Also, his immunity was their immunity.

Sometimes, Kouyuu thought the war was started because the Emperor was the only one who wasn't sorted. He ruled over both angels and demons, but sided with neither. He alone (Oh, he was "advised" by a council, but the decision was ultimately his) stamped each graduate and chose their future. Angel or demon. Demon or angel. One man decided if you were good or evil and one man decided whether your life would be spent encouraging good works, or encouraging evil ones and one man decided whether you would bring joy or despair. One man and one man alone.

It must be tempting.

It was expected that every member of the Imperial Family entered the Angelic or Demonic Sevice. It would be a good way to humble your potential heirs, or cast doubt upon the public facade of one or another. You could shame entire families and, and,... cause a war in the process. Also, the system would fall apart if you appointed people who were unsuitable.

The courses they studied, the tests they took, all were designed to find ther aptitudes. The tutors were ultimately trying to find out as much as they could aboutt he personality and capacity of their students. Sometimes, secrets that were buried a little too deeply were revealed during the process.

It was surprising who could be the greatest tempters. Kouyu always found it hard to get someone to do what they really, really wanted to do. At least, to get them to do it for the right reasons. He was great at the theory, but the practical work was hard and he sweated for hours studying. Other people could crack the challenge with a minute and two or three careful words, but Kouyuu would invest solid hours niggling away, until the person he was working on capitulated.

Surprisingly, some of the nicest people were demons. How could you dislike someone who told you to have a piece of cake, as though it wasn't important who the cake belonged to? Those ones were usually assigned to children. The deep, dark insides of adults were too much to expose them too.

There were very few angels for children. Tons of demons, though.

oooOOOooo

'Angels are good aren't they. I thought that you were supposed to aspire to angelity.'

Shuuei took her delicate, little hand in his calloused one and kissed her fingertips. 'Maybe, but being a demon sounds more interesting, doesn't it?'

She giggled at his audicity.

'The muses are technically demons, aren't they?' he pointed out.

'You're right!' she exclaimed. 'I forgot all about that when I was labelled a muse, but they called out "demon" first.' She giggled again and fluttered her eyes. 'You must think me remarkably dense.'

'No, my dear,' he replied solemnly. 'As with everyone, you gave me an awful lot to think about.'

She turned her head to one side and he felt compelled to continue.

'I had a long conversation with General Shou, when it became obvious who was being groomed for angelhood and I asked him to transfer my classes to those of a more demonic bent.'

She frowned. 'I thought that no representations could be made. I thought that everything was decided in an unbiased manner.'

Shuuei nodded. 'But if someone's interested in a job, they work harder at it. I thought that extra study, extra classes and more effort could swing it.'

'Has it?'

'I'll find out later today,' he said with a smile.

oooOOOooo

Kurou was definitely a demon. Only a demon would insinuate himself into a family and usurp the 'loving uncle' role that rightfully belonged to his brother.

The richly dressed man seethed as he raced through the compound. The graduation and assignment ceremony would begin soon. He was late, he was late and it was all Kurou's fault. Kurou was evil. He loved the Kou family, but hated the individual members of it. Reishin was the exact opposite of him, so Reishin must be good.

oooOOOooo

Shouka ambled along the path from the archives. It was a beautiful day and he paused to view the cherry blossoms as they shook themselves free of their branches and drifted on the wind. It was unreal that his little girl had come so far and that soon she would be an adult and no longer need protecting. Perhaps a new role was required.

The wind blew more strongly and teased the few strands of hair that had escaped from his loose ponty tail. Maybe not right away. Shuurei was still precious, even if her duties took her far away. She would need a home and stability for her first adult years.

Still, he could at least surprise Kurou.

oooOOOooo

The Emperor nodded from his throne as Shou Taishi stepped forward and started calling out names. The majority of the cadets would become personal demons and angels, some would take on duties in the Imperial Palace and others would form the backbone of the regional authority.

'Li Kouyuu!'

Kouyuu held his breath. His hands sweated and he desperately tried to worry them dry. If it was a good position, then the Emperor himself would hand Kouyuu his scroll and take his hand and Kouyuu couldn't offer a damp hand to the Emperor. He just couldn't.

'Angel.'

Kouyuu's knees buckled in relief. He just about managed to stagger to his feet and head to the dais..

'Personal appointment to the Emperor.'

Inertia kept him going. In the crowd he could see his father snap open a fan and gossip with the Department Head beside him. Did he expect this? Did anyone?

The Emperor smiled widely when he presented Kouyuu with his scroll and pinned a tiny pair of angel wings on his chest. Sa Taishi guided him to a spot beside the Emperor and pushed him onto a stool, when his legs appeared to stop working.

'Ran Shuuei.'

As always, that man was never far away. Still, he could not hope to achieve the honor that had been granted to Kouyuu. Yes, even if he was assigned to the Palace, Kouyuu would have many moments of Shuuei-free bliss.

'Demon.'

Kouyuu hissed. He'd managed to clamp down on the exuberant "I knew it!" that threatened to break free and still thumped at the back of his skull.

Shuuei stood far more gracefully than Kouyuu had and began to walk down the aisle, towards the dais.

'Personal appointment to the Emperor.'

oooOOOooo

Of course, Shuurei realised as she knealt with the other cadets awaiting their assignments, it didn't really matter which side you were assigned to. Both angels and demons could have a great and wonderful affect on the people of Saiunkoku, as long as they worked hard and made sure that those around them reached their potential.

She wondered, just before her name was called, if the greatest effect of the demon wasn't on the angel beside him.


	4. Mental Health Setting

**Mental Health Setting**

* * *

It was a cliché that the doctors in a Mental Health Centre were indistinguishable from the patients, but he thought it anyway. The similarities began right at the top, after all. The nominal Head of the centre was going deep undercover in a bid to investigate the inmate experience and finish the research on his radical new therapy. The research appeared to consist of slacking off, eating grapes and watching the television. Of course, this led to more work for the rest of the staff.

The doctor made another mark on his clipboard. He started to count them up, but stopped when a frequent visitor walked through the swing doors.

'What are you here for?' He forced the words out through clenched teeth, but managed to remain reasonably polite.

'Stress,' replied the arrogant playboy, dusting down his smoking jacket and checking the room for attractive women who had only checked in to escape the media. 'I'm under terrible strain and need to recharge my batteries. Could you check me into a room on the Chrysanthemum wing, please?' He topped off his distracted speech with a nonchalant wave, before stepping into the conservatory and leaving his bags in the doorway.

'Not to worry, Doctor Li. I'll get them.' The orderly was simply marvelous. He took the bags with a gentle smile and the anger that had built in the doctor faded away. That man was worth twice his weight in gold. He seemed inoffensive and got on with all the inmates, but was deceptively strong. Many times, three or four attendants jumped on an unruly inmate, just to hold him or her steady until Shouka arrived.

A clock chimed somewhere and the doctor began his rounds. The centre catered to a wide variety of mental health issues, from the very mild to the extremely severe. There was even a few padded cells, although they saw more private than medical use.

He paused at the door of his first patient to knock. Knocking showed courtesy. For many patients, this centre was their home and privacy was an important issue when your mind is fragile. He waited a suitable time for a response and when none came, let himself inside.

The first patient was a strong and physically healthy man. The Doctor smiled and approached him, but kept a safe distance. He was a trained martial artist, which made his condition very dangerous. The man was filled with impotent rage and could get violent.

Before he could begin, the door burst open and an orderly fell in. 'Doctor Li. These test results are marked as urgent!' he said, breathlessly, before handing over a large, white packet. Distracted by the red stamp on the envelope, the doctor forgot to chide the boy, who was hard-working, after all.

The doctor opened the package, looked at the images and read the analysis, as well as the cover letter from the specialist. He hated these situations. Someone else should be doing this. The patient had seen the packet arrive, had seen his reaction. The doctor could not simply turn aside and pass this on to another doctor. Strange, his white coat had gotten so grubby, recently. It needed a good wash, but he didn't think that he had a spare. Maybe he could put in a requisition for a new one. Yes. He'd talk to one of the admin staff about that.

'Mr Shi, you're in the wrong hospital,' the doctor began, inelegantly. 'The results of your scan have shown something unexpected. ' He didn't know how to continue - training was severely lax on these matters. 'I'm afraid that it's very serious, but there is a good chance that you'll be ok. There's..' He looked down at the letter and prepared to read out the medical jargon that he barely understood himself, but stopped. The patient's face had gone white. He needed to be told as quickly and as simply as possible. 'There's a swelling in your brain, that shows all the signs of being a tumour. You're not crazy. The mood swings, the personality changes - they've all been caused by this swelling. Luckily, the Health Centre has connections with a very good hospital that specialises in' (don't say cancer) 'brain surgery and has a doctor who has carried out this procedure many times successfully. If you agree, then we can transfer you to this hospital within the day. You've already been scheduled an appointment with the specialist.'

It's only when tension leaves a body that you realise how much there had been. The patient seemed to deflate, strangely relived. The doctor would hate to have cancer in the brain, but he could understand the fear and taboo of being mentally ill. Strange that a tumour would seem preferable, although he supposed that a tumour could be cut out more easily than intangibles like rage, fear and forgetfulness.

'I'll sign anything,' he said.

Doctor Li nodded. 'I'll send in Nurse Shou with the forms. He'll answer any questions you have.'

He tried to slow down his steps as he left - it wouldn't be seemly to rush to the exit, even though he needed to get out and let the blush run to his cheeks. The doctor had been certain, so many assumptions and convictions and judgements on his patient and all of them were wrong. Mr. Shi had been vindicated, but his doctor should have treated him better, should have considered physical reasons as well as the well thumbed pyschiatric theories.

He stopped outside the door and leaned into the nameplate. The buffed metal cooled his forehead and the flush retreated. Only when the polished surface showed that the colour was gone, did Doctor Li approach the nurses' station. He asked for the transferal forms and wrote an extensive note on the last page. He finally attached the text results and cover letter to the form and handed it back to the nurse, with orders to prioritise the transfer. She took the form and passed it to another man in a white coat - much cleaner than his - who glanced over it and signed immediately.

Beyond him, reflected on the glass panel, the accountant strode though the lobby. The doctor cringed; that man gave him the heebie jeebies. They'd never talked, he didn't even know what the accountant's name was, but the guy had to be some kind of freak. He always wore a mask and it completely covered his face.

The man was also on friendly terms with the Centre's Head, which was definitely a mark against him. The doctor leaned further and further to the left, as he followed the other man's progress through the area. He finally disappeared from the glass reflection, though and Doctor Li had to turn around to check further.

The lobby appeared safe, but you could never tell with that man's friends, so the doctor decided to skip a few and visit the patient who was furthest from the room. His name was Ryuuki and his was a sad case.

Ryuuki had been incarcerated in a now discredited facility as teenager, when he first displayed homosexual tendencies. A family member had signed him in and approved every evil done to that poor boy in the name of a cure. Of course, there was nothing wrong with homosexual tendencies and the full force of the law came down on that disgraceful operation, but the effects of the treatments were catastrophic on the gentle-hearted soul.

They kept him in Rose Ward, one of the quieter areas, far from the attention seekers and the inquisitive. Doctor Li found those rooms refreshing himself and tended to dally there on days that he felt down. It was peaceful and relaxing, usually. Today was different.

Rose Ward corridor was guarded. The defender was was an unflappable, long-haired moon-child, dressed as the back end of a pantomime horse.

'Kouyuu,' said the moon-child.

'_Doctor_ Ran,' replied Doctor Li, emphasising the word deliberately, but getting no reaction.

'You haven't been to any of my sessions,' accused the horse. 'The group was very disappointed. Ryuuki drew a number of amazing portraits and I wanted you to sit for him.'

'Err.' The doctor stalled. 'I'll get to the next one, for sure.' Unless a clashing appointment could be arranged.

'Musical therapy is starting in two weeks,' the moon-child pressed. 'It's important to attend as many of those as possible. Come to them.'

'I'm not convinced of the benefits of having the mentally ill play the recorder,' Kouyuu tried to dismiss the other doctor, but was interrupted.

'Try one session. You can learn a lot. There have been truly outstanding results documented.'

'I'm only available next thursday, Doctor Ran.'

'Then that's when we'll begin!' The pantomime horse clapped him on the shoulder. 'And I've told you before, it's just Ryuuren. Doctor is far too formal, Kouyuu.'

'Err, yes.'

Over Ryuuren's shoulder, the orderly, Shouka approached, carrying a small tray.

'I'm afraid that they've moved your room again, Doctor Li.' The kind and gentle orderly took the doctor by the elbow and guided him down the hallway.

'Again?' he asked. 'Have they moved the bathroom too?'

The orderly nodded. 'Orders from upstairs, I'm afraid.'

'I understand.' The advantage of working in this centre over any other, was that room and board were provided, although the administrators did keep messing about with the layout - moving consultation rooms, bedrooms, receptions, gardens, everything on a whim.

'They have given you the same view, which is something.'

'I'm very fond of it.' Tears welled up in his eyes. 'Thank you.'

As he was led past them, he heard a nurse and doctor, a new girl, converse.

'Is it wise to let him prescribe medicine?' She sounded worried and her nails had the rough edges characteristic of a biter.

The nurse shrugged. 'His diagnoses are always correct. I don't know if he used to be a doctor or not, but it seems to keep him calm and we need all the help we can get.'

* * *

This fic reads very differently the second time around.


	5. High School AU

**High School AU**

* * *

'This is ridiculous! Why am I here anyway?'

The disgruntled teen slumped into his desk, then lounged back in the chair, to see who was getting drawn into the drama. One boy looked at him with a gentle smile, then turned back to his copybook. That was all.

He pulled at his tie, then unbuttoned the neck of his school shirt, before idly kicking the chair of the boy in front of him.

'It's all so boooooring,' he moaned. 'I've had a private tutor since I was three and we covered everything on the syllabus. What am I supposed to do here anyway?'

'Do you think that your parents wanted you to mix more with others, Reishin?' asked the gentle boy.

'Do you see any girls here?' Reishin responded, sitting up. 'The only thing close is Houju there.'

The chair in front of Reishin creaked and a deep voice intoned 'The school uniform is to be smart at all time. You are an ambassador for the school while in uniform.' Strong hands grabbed Reishin's tie and pulled until his face started to turn red. Reishin reached up and grabbed fistfulls of black hair and yanked, until the hands let go and he could breathe again.

A male teacher in a dusty twill jacket stuck his head in.

'Kou! Tidy up your hair and get it cut,' he said, addressing Reishin, who slicked back his hair. 'Kou,' he said, looking at Houju's long hair, which had fallen in front of his face again, 'you look fine.' He stepped in further, making sure that he had the attention of the whole class. 'Everyone settle down. You have a new teacher today.'

He left while the class was still silent, but it didn't take long for whispers to pass back and forth: _'Do you think it's a girl?'_

'I hope it's Shuurei,' said Reishin, loudly. He smiled for once. 'She's my niece. She just graduated from college and is pretty, kind and smart.'

'Your neice?' asked Houju, turning his chair sideways and sitting down. 'How can your niece be teaching here?'

'Shut up, that's why!' replied Reishin, blushing and opening a book.

Houju and the gentle boy exchanged glances over his head.

Soon enough someone else entered the room. She carried two worn books and a small glasses case. She looked young enough to be a student, but the class got to their feet and kept a respectful silence. Only Houju had ever seen a girl that young look that determined.

She placed her books on the teacher's desk and motioned everyone to sit down.

'As you know, Rou Ensei has returned to college, to study for his higher diploma. I am Kou Shuurei and I will replace him until he graduates.' She smiled and bowed. 'I will be teaching you history and I hope that we will do well together.'

Like any good teacher, she turned and wrote her name on the blackboard.

'Now, Instead of calling the role, I'd like each of you to stand up and tell me a little bit about yourself, before sitting down again.'

The class dutifully took it in turn, some with greater flair than others: the gentle boy simply said 'My name is Tei Yuushun and I hope to join the Civil Service when I graduate. My two best friends are terrible troublemakers, but I get extra credit for hanging around with them and giving them a good example.'

When Houju stood up, he shook his hair out his eyes. His teacher gasped; the rest of the class craned their necks to look at him, although a few turned determinedly away. 'I am Kou Houju... I wonder if we are related, Miss Kou?'

His chair rocketed into his legs and he slammed back down. Reishin got to his feet and shouted out loudly, 'Kou Reishin here! And you're not related to Houju or me either, miss', before sitting down again.

When three more boys had introduced themselves, a tiny piece of rolled up paper arced over Houju's shoulder and onto Reishin's desk. He unrolled it and read: "If we're not related, then there's nothing stopped us getting married".

The paper that hit the back of Houju's head was much larger. It read: "You will not survive that day, Kou Houju".

Houju's response was wrapped around a small stone and the clunk when it chipped Reishin's desk caught Shuurei's notice. She scooped it off the floor and read it aloud, before Reishin had a chance to reach it.

"If you love her so much, then why don't you marry her?" she read. Most of the class sniggered. Yuushun covered his mouth, although his shoulders heaved. Shuurei simply said, 'I'm afraid that it's too early for me to consider marriage. There's too much that I want to accomplish with my career, starting with teaching you guys about the thirteenth century.'

With that, she stared the class proper.

Reishin spent most of his first, precious class with Shuurei, glaring at Houju's head. For his part, Houju resorted to frequent hand gestures, but only when Miss Kou's back was turned. Yuushun ignored them both, taking careful notes and underlining the parts that he thought Reishin would have trouble with. The rest of the class enjoyed their first lesson, in a long time, that was studious and productive. One or two were, of course, quite disappointed.

During the break after Shuurei's class, the cold war continued. Reishin leaned across to Yuushun and whispered 'Why do we hang out with that guy anyway?'

Yuushun flicked his gaze at Houju's unmoving back, before replying. 'You hang out with him, for the same reason that he hangs out with you. I'm the only other friend you two have.'

Reishin grumbled and sit back in his seat. He folded his hands under his arms and scowled. Yuushun stood up and walked in front of his seat. 'Why did you tell Miss Kou that you're not related?'

'She doesn't know about me,' he replied. 'I grew up in the main house.' He sighed and kicked Houju's chair, gently. 'My father disowned Shouka before she was four years old. I'm inheriting everything that he should have - that she should have.'

'And?' Yuushun probed further.

'And it's embarrassing that I'm her uncle, but I'm younger than her! Wouldn't that embarrass you too? Shuurei would hate me if she knew!'

Yuushun cast an eye at the next teacher's shadow, now appearing at the glass door.

'Maybe if you worked hard in her class, paid attention and learned something, then she'd respect you and the embarrassment wouldn't matter.'

'Work hard?' Reishin didn't notice Houju's sudden, muffled sniggering. 'I could do that.'

The boy seated behind Reishin sighed. School had just gotten much less interesting and it's not as though the youngest son of the CEO of the most powerful corporation in the country would ever need to use his most expensive education. Ryuuki looked out the window, not standing when the teacher entered. Reishin was right - the school would be more interesting if there were girls in it, although, he did enjoy socialising with boys too.


	6. Modern Day Assassin AU

**Modern Day Assassin AU**

Written for Silvermuse89 - thanks for the awesome prompt.

* * *

He was getting too old for this shit.

Muscles strained with the stress of holding his weight. He was hanging from two suckers which were attached to the building, while his feet were manoeuvring into another careful hold. That wasn't the problem: the wind whistling over the grey and forbidding building had found a way into his clothing.

Old men felt the cold. In his youth, Shouka would have attempted the same stunt in short sleeves and flip flops. Hell, he would have worn a flowery hawaiian shirt and played music on a walkman, instead of listening for guards.

Of course, he would have gotten caught, but there's a certain disrespect that you can only carry off when you're young, single, cocky and blessed with a very expensive lawyer.

He clipped a line from a reel on his belt to one of the suckers and braced with his feet. Leaning back, he adjusted his jumper, until the chill disappeared. Now he understood why jumpsuits had come into fashion. They may look ridiculous, but they at least kept the cold out.

Happy again, he continued his climb.

The building he slowly ascended was one of the largest in the city. It was fairly typical: a grim facade, all grey stone and large tinted windows that no-one ever looked out of. The business inside was too serious for that and the view was of mostly similar buildings. If someone had looked up from their figures and graphs and noticed the night-climb of one Kou Shouka, thought it unusual and mentioned it to his colleagues, co-workers, friends and security, then Shouka might not find out until he'd finished this stage of his job. His destination was many floors above, just after a little architectural feature that required him to hold on upside down. Not for the first time, he wondered why he didn't just sneak through on the inside of the building. Sure there were security guards and alarms and lasers and finger-print locks, but a cerebral challenge would leave him fresh for the important part of his work: the kill. Certainly, buildings hadn't been as big as this in his youth.

Maybe he should have dropped from above, on a helicopter. Still, he hadn't worked with anyone else since his days in the Wolves of the Wind and from what he'd heard, most of those had gone straight, although some had died. He'd heard that his former second, Shusui, was working as a bodyguard now, but not who she was protecting. It was possible that he might even see her tonight.

He reached the overhang and dug himself in. He clipped himself to four suckers and leaned back, relaxing every muscle individually, enjoying the last bit of breathing space for the the rest of the evening. The overhang was bad enough, but the wall beyond it was made of pure glass. This was going to be the balls of steel moment.

If he was caught, the company involved might not even inform the police. He wasn't naive about corporations of this size. They'd used services like his more than once. After they recognised him, found his identity, investigated his background and tracked down his family, the repercussions could affect a lot of people, from those who worked for his late father's company, to those he cared for the most.

It was no job for a married man. He should have quit the day he'd torn up the contract on Shunkun and spirited her away from her evil manager. He had never found out who'd placed it, although he'd been tempted to track them down and dissuade them permanently, Shunkun had talked him out of it. There were rumours, but no way to be certain: one suggested that Kou Kijin was jealous of her talent. She'd scoffed at it: Kou Kijin was an idol who stirred the loins of even the most happily married man, but Shouka had known a lot of beautiful, insecure and jealous people and had tapped his brother, Reishin, to dig for information.

Shouka brought his thoughts back and reeled himself in. He grabbed the suckers and readied himself with a few deep breaths. Suckers. His supplier hated that word. "Simple rubber and vacuum cannot keep a man suspended from a building", he'd say, then go on about composites, adhesive gel and tiny needles, but when something sucked onto something else, then in Shouka's view, it was a sucker.

He released the left cup and reached forward. It had seemed a long journey from the bottom, but it was nearly over now. He didn't look down. Heights held no fears for him, but the view could be distracting. There were pictures on his livejournal blog taken in his hawaiian shirt days that still scared him, when viewed without the adrenalin and focus filter from "doing a job".

It was no job for a father. He should have quit the first time he'd picked up Shuurei. She had woken up when he held her close, but she didn't cry. Baby Shuurei had giggled and protested a little and Shouka had just held her close, until Shunkun demanded her return. Then he handed her over and stared at her, freeing her tiny, baby hand and poking it until she grabbed onto his finger in that adorable way. She was so pretty and giggly and ... He should have gone to his father and promised to turn his life around and work hard. He should have entered the family business, done it the right way, paid out massive sums on insurance and a pension. Maybe then he wouldn't have to take jobs like this.

Shuurei was still sick. The medical bills had piled up again. He needed the money and this was the only way to make a lot of cash in a short amount of time, with no questions asked.

Besides, the target was an old man who would die soon anyway. His rivals were all dead, even Sa Enjun. What a nasty piece of work he'd turned out to be.

Shouka reached the edge of the overhang. If he was rock-climbing, then he'd bang in a piton for all he was worth before going any further, but today, Shouka could not risk the noise, or even the vibration. Why climb a building so carefully if you set off the internal alarms anyway? He reached around and adhered the two suckers to the sheer glass of the window, testing them carefully, before releasing his feet and swinging out over the city, over the traffic, somewhere down there. This was the panic moment for most climbers, when your feet have nothing to brace against and it's all down to the power in your two arms. Slowly, he released the right cup and replaced it higher up. It stuck neatly to the tinted glass. He couldn't see anything through the window, but reckoned that he was still under floor level.

_Schu-thunk_. He released the left cup and placed it securely, higher up. This was going smoother than he'd thought. _Schu-thunk_. _Schu-thunk_. _Schu-thunk_. _Schu-glllll_.

The left sucker was sliding slowly downwards. _Stick to anything, eh?_ he thought. He released it and tried again. _Schu-glllll_. He didn't panic, just tried different areas, until he found one where the window cleaners hadn't been so rigorous with their buffing. The careful search and stick routine continued until he had climbed high enough to grant purchase for his feet.

Now steady, he reached into the pack at his hip and pulled out a small device. It had a small, flat screen and a number of attachments sticking out of the top. One was covered with a soft, black sponge. He turned it on and a few lights blinked on it, then switched off. He moved it slowly, up and down, left to right, then smiled at the results. Somehow, Shouka had managed to find the one empty office in this part of the building. He marked the glass with some chalk - this was roughly the level of the floor inside, then he swapped the small device for one familiar to cat burglars everywhere - a suction cup, hinged lever and diamond-tipped knife, guaranteed to leave circular holes in any pane of glass up to ten centimetres deep. He attached the suction cup, placed the diamond blade on the glass and paused. Even through the gloves he wore, a vague prickle spread across the back of hand, of hairs standing proudly to attention. _Static_.

He abandoned the device for now, instead removing four tiny boxes from a pouch on his left leg. From a pocket in his trousers he took a tube, and squeezed, expelling a clear gel, which he touched to each of the little boxes. The tube was returned to his pocket and the boxes were attached to the window, in a large-ish square. He pushed them down hard, and heard a small click, then pulled out a reel of incredibly thin wire. He wrapped this around the first box, travelled to the second, did a loop and continued to the other two boxes, completing the square by returning to the original box. The tingle disappeared, but reappeared when he moved close to the wire. Finally, he cut the hole in the glass and slid inside.

He was a little high, but not enough to matter. A wind came in with him, ghosting under desks and flipping through loose papers. Once inside, he grabbed the round piece of glass and held it back up to the hole. The tube reappeared and he applied gel all around the edge. The rattle of papers died down as he worked and the draught was excluded. He held the glass in place for mere moments, then released the sucker and stowed the old-school device. The glass held. Phase one complete.

He started to remove his outer layer of clothing and stored it in his bag. The Office was too warm, especially following the wind chill outside. He pondered again, while he undressed. The money from this job might be enough to save Shuurei. He had dealings with a wide variety of extremely shady people. He'd already met a guy who knew a guy who had made a lot of money dealing in black market organs and Shuurei was on the bottom of a very long list. The doctors had tested himself and his wife, to see if they were compatible donors, although, stressing that it would only matter in the worst possible circumstances, if tragedy struck again. The results had come by post and for the first time ever, Shouka had lied to his wife. She was... They both loved Shuurei, but Shuurei was still alive and the longer she lived, the more hope there was. Medicine improved all the time. Other people died all the time and Shouka was damned if he would lose his wife as well as his daughter.

Shouka stowed his bag under a desk, swapping it for a discarded briefcase that moped on the floor beside it. He transferred a few necessary items into it, then took out the tie that was the only original item inside, apart from an over-ripe banana. He deftly placed it around his neck and tied it. A nearby chair yielded a blazer jacket that went quite well with his slacks. Only the too-long hair seemed incongruous now. He smiled at his reflection in the glass window and straightened the new tie, before setting off.

The floor plan he'd bought from the architects seemed to be unaltered since the original fit-out. One or two workers buzzed around, their shirt sleeves rolled up, now that the bosses had gone home. They picked at their keyboards, managing about a word a minute as they watched the coffee drip down off the filter. Shouka nodded at most of them and several waved back, even calling him by some other guy's name. Confident and assured, he reached the lift unchallenged.

He strode in and he hit the button for three floors up. As soon as the doors closed, he reached into his case and whipped out a device. One switch released a skeleton key, which he stabbed into the tiny keyhole underneath the long list of buttons. It only took moments for the penthouse button to light up and he pushed it eagerly.

The lift hummed as it sped up through the floors, not stopping at any other floor, even the one he'd originally asked for. When it did stop, the doors opened with a distinctive chime.

The decor here was old. It looked as though a museum had been raided, in fact, some of the paintings on the walls resembled those that had recently gone missing from the national gallery. Coincidence, of course. The carpet was rich and deep; the exposed wood all mahogany; the walls painted that distinctive "blood-of-virgins" colour so beloved by the extremely wealthy. There were no guards, no visible cameras and - he checked his watch - no alarms. He released the stiletto from its sheath on his bicep and dropped it into his hand. Keeping a firm, but relaxed grip, he ventured onwards.

The corridor jinked left and right. Doors appeared at uneven intervals, but Shouka ignored them. At this time of night, his target slept, dead to the world by all accounts. The last room on the hallway was the bedroom - fitted out in imperial majesty, from the photographs that he'd seen in the decorators' files. Its door was more grandly carved than the other rooms, and, as Shouka saw after a quick check, unlocked. Why would you need to lock it, after all? He spent time examining the door and lock in more detail, looking for the tell-tale nicks, wires, smooth areas, or uneasy static that revealed a trap, or several.

Finally certain that the door was clean, he pulled on kid gloves and turned the handle. The room inside was dark and he slid in quickly. The gentle sound of breathing drew him on and he approached the bed. Lying, eyes closed, at perfect peace, was the target: Mr. Shou. Shouka neither knew nor cared why his death was wanted, but he was a professional. He sheathed the dagger and withdrew a large needle from the briefcase, tapping it twice before inserting the needle into Mr. Shou's arm. The poison inside worked quickly. Ordinarily. Shouka had done this many times before, when the client didn't want the target to suffer, but never before had the needle bent when it was being used. He dropped it into a small box, then pulled out a replacement, but the same thing happened, as Mr. Shou snoozed on.

Shouka took out his tazer and ramped up the voltage. One of those could still simulate a heart attack. He tested the zapper, before applying it to the back of Mr. Shou's neck. The body tensed as the electricity raced through it, but as soon as he turned off the tazer, the chest returned to its normal activity. Up and down it went, without a break. Shouka tried again. This time the body didn't even react.

He pulled a pillow from the bed and placed it over Mr. Shou's face for five minutes. Somehow, the old man managed to breathe through the entire ordeal. The assassin unsheathed the dagger, placing it above the old man's heart. Stabbing was messy, but usually final. Shouka sighed, then leaned heavily on the dagger. It cut cleanly through the sheets, but suddenly stopped as though he was trying to push through plate armour. Shouka drew back and looked at the dagger. Same thin blade, same keen edge, same deadly steel, but somehow unable to kill a single, old man? He pulled back the sheets, prepared to check the old man's pyjamas for kevlar, when Mr. Shou stirred.

The lights came on moments later. Stereotypically, Mr. Shou laughed. 'You see, it won't work,' he said, rising up. Shouka backed off, while the old man tossed aside the rest of his covers and got to his feet, shuffling into his comfy slippers as he did. 'No blade will harm me, no poison kill me, no element fry me. I'm quite invincible, Mr. Kou.'

Shouka lashed out, but each thrust was turned aside by the old man's kevlar body.

'There's no use,' he continued, while searching for his dressing gown. 'I have used your services myself, _Black Wolf_ and I can tell you that nothing you have with you can end my life.' He chuckled again, while tying the terrycloth gown. He approached Shouka, who retreated while keeping up a steady assault on the frail looking old man.

'Now, now,' he said. 'Why do you keep trying what obviously doesn't work? Shouka, my boy, I could use a man like you. There are several jobs you've turned down before, but now I think that you'll be more amenable...'

Shouka backed off as the old man spoke, not panicking, but stabbing at him again and again. He led the old coot across the room until he stood in front an open wardrobe, still laughing in between offers of understanding and recompense, as long as Shouka agreed to work only for him. One quick shove and the old man tumbled into the depths of the wardrobe. Shouka slammed the doors shut and held them closed. Mr. Shou's super endurance did not appear to be allied to super strength as he banged on the inside of the doors. The wardrobe was made out of a thick wood and the thumps and bangs were quite muffled.

'Mr. Kou,' Shouka could just hear the old man in the silence of the room. 'Think of what I could offer your daughter.'

Shouka jammed an iron rod between the handles, then edged the wardrobe out from the wall. Mr. Shou continued to bang from his prison. 'Be reasonable, Shouka.'

He pulled a roll of gaffa tape from the briefcase and wrapped up the wardrobe, nice and tight, before discarding his borrowed tie and jacket. The shirt underneath had doubled as a workman's on previous occasions. He sized up the wardrobe. Mr. Shou was light enough, so the weight of the wardrobe shouldn't be beyond him to carry. He smiled. It wouldn't be easy, but it would be interesting.

* * *

The phone rang longer than usual. The voice on the other end sounded jubilant, however.

'Congratulations,' it said. 'I heard today that our Mr. Shou has disappeared from his bed and no-one knows what happened. I have a few ideas as to what should happen to the body...'

'There's a problem,' Shouka interrupted, brusquely.

'I don't pay you to hear about problems,' replied the voice. 'As long as he's dead, I don't care.'

'He's not dead.'

The line went quiet, only the humble buzz of the recording device was heard, until the voice returned, significantly less jubilant. 'I assume that you're not looking for more money. I will not succumb to blackmail...'

'I want you to take him.'

'What?'

'He's been in my dungeon for the past week and I've tried everything; the old man appears to be unkillable.'

'That's impossible.'

'So's continuing to breathe after being locked in an airtight cell for thirty six hours. So's floating happily at the bottom of a swimming pool for six hours. So's breaking every single needle, pin dagger and hatchet I own on the skin of an old man. He's scoffing buns laced with cyanide right now and showing no ill effects, despite eating nothing else all week.'

'I hired you to kill him.'

'I got him out of the way. If you don't want to take responsibilty for him, then I'll set him free next Wednesday - I need the room.'

'If you expect to be paid...'

'It was extremely difficult to remove an immortal from the heart of his lair. His condition could not have been foreseen, but do not penalise me for it. I have been very reasonable all week.'

'Of course, I will be in touch to make arrangements.'

The line went dead and Shouka replaced the receiver. He sighed.

From the dining room came a girlish voice: 'More cakes, grandpa?'.

Shouka sighed again. He had to get Mr. Shou out of the house soon. Shouka had promised Shunkun that he'd never bring his work home with him and Mr. Shou was a terrible influence on poor Shuurei.


	7. College AU

This chapter is for Reina.

**College AU**

* * *

The teenaged girl stepped through the door, gripping her backpack and suitcase. The outside had been bad enough, with slates missing from the roof and rubbish stacked in piles on the mangy lawn, but inside: mysterious burn spots on the carpets, walls and ceilings; ugly stains of every hue; old and ratty furniture and the unmistakeable smell and feel of damp.

She waited, just inside the hall, a clammy sweat beading on her skin under the T-shirt proclaiming the merits of a three-year old music festival. She checked the key in her hand even though it had opened the door: the address on its tag matched the house she stood inside.

'Isn't it great, Shuurei?'

The man that had stepped in after her was an unassuming sort, with a meek smile. His broad sandals squelched onto the carpet and he walked back out. His baggy clothing caught on the doorjamb as he cleaned the sandals with the iron scraper that appeared to be installed for people leaving the house, rather than entering it. His long hair was tied back, whereas hers was loose, but you couldn't deny the resemblance between them.

'They had three spare rooms, so we can all stay here.'

His beam would have been infectious if Shuurei hadn't already seen the state of the kitchen, visible through an open door. 'What is that?' She pushed it further open – a splintery table squealed as it slid a foot, before banging against the wall. As her companion sidled in through the door, somehow pulling the bags with him; she opened grotty cupboard after grotty cupboard and finally brandished a large packet of salt. 'Stand back, father; it's probably dangerous.'

She approached the corner of the conservatory-style kitchen, with the salt held menacingly high. 'We may need a lot more to kill this off.'

Her father walked up behind her and saw something that he never thought he'd see again: a soft and furry riot of colour in green, blue and pink. He dropped his smile and patted his pockets. 'I'll be right back. The shop's only thirty minutes away.' He pulled out a set of car keys. 'Actually, the supermarket's forty, but they'll probably have enough salt. How much do you think I should get?'

'Don't destroy it – that's Ryuuki's final year project!'

A buff young man had raced inside from the distinctly overgrown garden, which he'd been trampling in some sort of sporting endeavour. 'Hi,' he said, smiling widely at Shuurei, and then more respectfully at her father.

'It's hazardous,' stated Shuurei, still holding her weapon high.

'Probably,' admitted the buff man, 'but it's only for another week and if he fails this time, we could be subjected to something even worse.' He sighed, mopping his brow with the bottom of his T-shirt and making it slightly damper. 'We _will _be subjected to something even worse.'

Shuurei glanced at the buff man, looked back at the brooding mold and turned to her father. 'We still have time to find somewhere else.'

Her father nodded; but before she could move, he said 'I've paid in advance.'

Her face pinched. 'We'll get the deposit back once student services see this.'

He nodded again and immediately added: 'For the year. And I've rented out our house.'

While Shuurei stood there, not saying anything, just blinking and simmering; her father approached the young man and shook his hand. 'My name is Kou Shouka.'

'Shuuei. Ran Shuuei.' His handshake was firm and his manner was polite, but his T-shirt couldn't cover the numerous bruises on his collar bone.

'This is my daughter, Shuurei.' Shouka stood between the two others, allowing Shuuei to view her, but not leaving enough space for Shuuei to pass him and deliver physical greetings.

He waved meekly from a safe distance. 'Pleased to meet you, Shuurei.'

She answered with a scowl. 'Shuuei; myself and my father are going to leave our bags in...' The cloying damp reasserted itself and she paused, '...outside. If you and your flatmates don't have this place presentable by the time we come back, then student services will be called and the landlord will be prosecuted. I assume that he'll evict you. Good day.'

She marched out, her father following. He had a bit of difficulty keeping pace, since it took a few attempts to get through the kitchen door. Shuuei helped him, by yanking the splintery table out. It left deep wounds in the linoleum.

Shouka hurried to catch up with his daughter. 'You haven't even seen your room, Shuurei. It's pink. Seiran will be in the next door down and I'll be in the next door up.'

In the garden she stopped to confront him. 'Why on earth did you decide to come to college with me, father?'

'They've decided that someone in my position needs a degree, so I've been let go.' A light breeze ruffled through his hair and that was the only change in his cheerful demeanour. 'If I pass the librarian studies course, then I can reapply and I should get my old job back.. If not, then I'll easily get a job somewhere else, given the experience I've built up.' He gestured at the bug covered wilderness infesting the front garden. 'Should we leave our bags on the path, or risk the lawn?'

She wavered between offering sympathy and being disgruntled. 'What about Seiran? It seems an enormous co-incidence that both you and him wait to enrol until I go to college.'

Shouka remained placid. 'I offered to send him as soon as he left school. He turned me down, repeatedly. He felt that he wasn't entitled to my money, as he's only your foster-brother, not blood.'

'That doesn't make a difference!'

'I agree, but Seiran felt differently. We discussed it, but it was his choice to make. In the end, he went to work; saved and now he has enough money to pay for his course.'

She mulled this over, sucking at her teeth and brushing the moss from the cobblestones at her feet. The rusty gate at the end of the overgrown path rasped open and banged shut. She grasped her bags firmly, then left them down again. 'We can't abandon them to this place, can we? We should help.'

Shouka nodded.

'Besides, if we're here, it's more likely that someone will spill bleach on that thing.'

They found Shuuei inside, trying to work out how to clean a three floor house with one holey bucket, a sponge and ten year old bleach.

'AT THE NEXT JUNCTION, TURN LEFT.'

Muffled curses echoed into the kitchen from upstairs.

'ADJUSTING... AT THE NEXT JUNCTION, TURN RIGHT.'

More muffled curses joined a loud thumping that came down the stairs.

'That's Kouyuu,' explained Shuuei. 'He's a bit grumpy because he's in the middle of a doctorate.'

After a few more thumps and unmuffled curses a red-faced youth with greenish-blue hair came storming in. 'This thing is broken!' he shouted. 'The volume control isn't working and it keeps sending me to the bathroom!'

'You're not using it right.' Shuuei laid down his tools, took a device from Kouyuu's hand and started pressing buttons.

'Oh, are you finally getting rid of that monstrosity,' he said, nodding at the corner, then at the bleach on the table.

'Can't.' Shuuei gestured at Shouka and Shuurei, who were still in their coats. 'Cleaning up for the new people.'

'Why can't you?' Kouyuu replied, ignoring the half-hearted introduction.

'Ryuuki,' he replied, continuing to press buttons.

'He finished that course a week ago.'

'You've seen him?'

'No, but I've read his twitters.' Kouyuu pursed his lips, while going through the pockets of the white lab coat he wore. We'll need to dispose of it carefully.'

'Why on earth hasn't he done this himself?' exclaimed Shuurei.

Kouyuu stared at her as though she'd teleported into the room without ringing first. Shuuei just scratched his neck. 'That's Ryuuki. We only know he exists because food goes missing and post arrives for him.'

'What a selfish, no good jerk.'

Kouyuu recovered from his shock and suddenly saluted. 'Li Kouyuu, theoretical physics.'

'Kou Shuurei, politics and women's studies.' She smiled gently, as the others continued the thread.

'Kou Shouka, librarianing.'

'Ran Shuuei. I was studying law, but now I'm in Sports studies...'

'A soft course,' muttered Kouyuu.

'...which should help me since I'm on the football team and am going pro when I graduate.'

They smiled at each other until Shuurei broke the silence. 'So, can we kill it now?'

At the local hardware store, they managed to find several gas masks, a full array of cleaning supplies, hardcore bleach and more importantly, some good advice. The mold could not be destroyed completely, but was safely transplanted to a containment device, before being deposited at the university's hazardous materials storage room.

Luckily, no-one developed any symptoms that were on the list given to them by the senior lecturer and the kitchen was disinfected and safe to use within the week. Ryuuki remained at large although a basket of muffins was discovered on the table one morning, without a note.


End file.
